


Odds On Us

by PrefectMoony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, MWPP, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, like what's new lmfao, with slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrefectMoony/pseuds/PrefectMoony
Summary: “Oh no, I will not be felt up as if you didn’t just slander me.” Remus sniffs, going back to his reading and  ignoring the way James and Peter have moved on to their own conversation about James’s chances to land a date with Lily this term.“Oh you wanna play it this way Moons,” Sirius says in that tone of voice that is ordinarily saved for when they’re entirely alone— ensconced behind the curtains of his four-poster or an empty broom cupboard between classes—“Don’t know what you mean Pads,” Remus says measuredly, hopes that his voice comes out as unaffected as possible instead of the haggard, frayed at the edges way he thinks it does.“We’ll make it a bet then,” Sirius says, rolling over so that he’s crowding Remus against the headboard, noses touching and Sirius practically straddling his hips. “First one to cave for a kiss is the loser?”“Mmm, fine. Winner gets?”Sirius’s pale eyes glint wickedly in the dim light of their room for only a moment, before he very succinctly  says, “Head.”—OR—Idiots in love make a bet that proves beyond difficult.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 179





	Odds On Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a prompt an Anon sent me on tumblr that said “stop pinning this on me, you started it.”
> 
> So ofc I wrote a rom/com lol

Focus.

All Remus needs to do is focus. It’s not that hard. He’s a damn prefect for Morgana’s sake, in the top 3% of their entire year. Learning to focus amidst madness became as easy as slinking on his cloak before strolling through the cool Scottish outdoors. For fuck’s sake, it had to be a learned talent considering he was assigned to a dorm with the chaotically brilliant duo that is James and Sirius. With Peter besides who’s always crowing on about classes or the latest bird he’s fancying or the next prank he’d like to commit (which almost always included a stop by the kitchens). 

Focus, that’s all he needs to do. So what if the object of his affections since sodding third year is currently draped all over him— Sirius’s head bent so that he can brush his aristocratic nose against Remus’s temple, and one of his hands discretely rubbing up and down his thigh, inching closer and closer to where Remus’s jeans are beginning to tent. 

Fucking damn it Remus will not be distracted by the blue blooded wanker that is Sirius Black!

With a huff and very deliberate shuffle so that there’s some space between them, Remus returns to scanning the opened page of Withering Heights he’s got opened up, and he relaxes into The Beatles song crooning out the record player he’s charmed from home to play within Hogwarts grounds, and pretends to care about James from across the room, swaying in his place with a half empty flask of fire-whiskey in hand and his pointer finger twirling in the air with seemingly great effort.

“Righto. Lads.” He declares with a hiccup between thoughts. “’S our sixth year, nearly the crop of the cream.”

“Erm, think the saying’s cream of the crop,” Peter says, words slightly slurred as he collapses on the nearest bed, which just so happens to be Sirius’s.

Remus laughs, cuts a glance to an offended looking Sirius, “Think he’ll be sick on your 700 thread count sheets, love?”

Sirius glares, retaliates by kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth and trying to distract him all over again.

“Oi! Stop your canoodling you mutts! I’m trying to talk here!”

Sirius rolls his eyes and Remus snickers before ever so graciously returning his attention onto a red faced James who’s taking another pull of the whiskey they smuggled in from the Hog’s Head on their nip to the town after the welcoming feast. “Sounds like just blustering from here, mate.”

The fierceness from James’s glower is significantly lessened by the way his eyes can’t even focus on Remus for longer than a second at a time. “’S important marauder business we’re discussin’ here, Moony! Pranks to be had, redheads to be flattered!” The remaining three chorus a snort. “I’m serious damn it!”

“Nah mate, I’m Sirius,” the aforementioned blue blooded wanker preens, narrowly dodging the pillow Peter unceremoniously hurls his way, thumping on the wall instead. “Besides,” he continues leisurely, practically lying half on top of Remus now. “’S not my fault that Moony here can’t keep his hands off of me, such a exhibitionist. A little wildcat if I’m being at all honest.”

Remus makes a strangled noise in his throat like a very affronted hyena, “Fucking plonker.”

This time Sirius is too slow to avoid the elbow to his side, but the positively devious grin he’s sporting doesn’t let up in the slightest. “I’m telling you boys, it’s the quiet ones indeed.”

Peter and James seem to find this hilarious, but Remus is suddenly plotting out a very elaborate and very mutinous murder using only his pillow and targeting Sirius’s stupidly gorgeous face.

Revenge will be sweet.

“You’re the one smothering me if you’ve forgotten tosser.” He fumes, which makes Sirius positively incandescent with glee. 

“Well I can’t jilt you dearest Moonbeam,” he says with a ridiculously exasperated flapping to his lashes— pinching his cheek just for good measure. And Remus would really like to bite his finger right off but is 60% certain that Sirius’ll take it as something sexual. 

“I hate you.”

“You love me and my washboard abs.”

Remus’s eyes flicker down to Sirius’s sadly clothed torso and wishes Sirius didn’t know how to read him so well. “You’re a bastard.”

“And you’re a beautiful little cabbage,” he replies, leaning forwards for a proper kiss, and frowning when Remus resolutely does not meet him for it. 

“Oh no, I will not be felt up as if you didn’t just slander me.” Remus sniffs, going back to his reading and ignoring the way James and Peter have moved on to their own conversation about James’s chances to land a date with Lily this term— From what Remus picks up on a good deal of it is dependent on Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup this year. 

“Oh you wanna play it this way Moons,” Sirius says in that tone of voice that is ordinarily saved for when they’re entirely alone— ensconced behind the curtains of his four-poster or an empty broom cupboard between classes— A very low, slightly gruff, and entirely alluring baritone that still makes Remus’s toes curl while they’re sitting in plane view of their two, beyond sloshed, best friends.

“Don’t know what you mean Pads,” Remus says measuredly, hopes that his voice comes out as unaffected as possible instead of the haggard, frayed at the edges way he thinks it does.

“We’ll make it a bet then,” Sirius says, rolling over so that he’s crowding Remus against the headboard, noses touching and Sirius practically straddling his hips. “First one to cave for a kiss is the loser?”

Oh God, Remus should’ve expected this, truly. Of course Sirius wants to make everything into a bloody competition. And Remus should probably say no, considering that the full is in two weeks and they’re only just starting their NEWT level course work, and he’s got prefect rounds practically every other night. But he also knows it in his bones that he can hardly deny Sirius anything, and he’s always loved competitions himself, especially winning them. Especially if it’s his far too smug, far too self assured boyfriend who he’s taking down a peg or two.

“Mmm, fine. Winner gets?”

Sirius’s pale eyes glint wickedly in the dim light of their room for only a moment, before he says, “Head.”

God Remus should’ve just kept on focussing on his reading.

.-

The general bustle of the Great Hall seems to be especially graining this morning, but Remus refuses to blame it on anything to do with the bet, or the fact it was the first night in nearly a month that he hasn’t shared a bed with Sirius— after Remus had spent part of the summer in the Potter estate in Devon before Sirius returned to spend the final week with him in Wales in his small coastal town with his small but loud mother with her musical supremacy and sly jokes that told them they would never pull one over on her in a thousand years and all together outrageous amounts of vivacity.

But no, it’s none of that. It’s just because the house elves didn’t put out that blackberry marmalade he especially likes, and transfiguration is up first for their roster and he knows McGonagall won’t be easy on her NEWT level students.

It’s fine, he’s fine.

“Wonder who’s the new DADA professor,” Sirius says in his typical, boisterous way as he slides in besides Remus, legs pressed right up against one another, and oh fuck him.

“I hear they’re someone who use to be an Auror, which is far out if you ask me,” Peter says, setting down the tea for his honey, which then makes it so Sirius stretches over to grab it— just about collapsing over Remus in the meantime, so close that Remus can practically sense the heat radiating off of him, and feel the wayward strands of his hair tickling his nose; For the record, He’s only sorta intoxicated by the assault of Sirius’s familiar, woodsy cologne that’s a bit spicy and a bit musky and just a tad muted by the cigarette smoke that’s always permeating around him these days.

“Budge over already will you,” he tells him with stifled impatience.

“Why’s that Moons?” He asks with far too much glee for Remus’s liking. “I just wanna fix myself a spot of tea is all.”

Remus grits his teeth, knowing full and well that Sirius doesn’t even fucking drink honey with his tea— prefers it as black as his name like the pure blooded wanker he is.

“All right Moony?” James asks, right when Sirius sits back down and leers in that devious way that only he can make both alluring and downright infuriating all at once.

Remus hopes that the glower he uses to skewer Sirius with is getting the point across; namely that he wants to beat him to a pulp.

“Fine, just gotta go pick up a book from the library before class.”

“But ’s the first day?” Peter says, blinking owlishly with a half eaten sausage in his mouth.

“I know,” Remus seethes, gathering up his satchel and forcefully ignoring the curious looks James and Peter are tossing him and to the toon of Sirius’s cackles trailing his wake.

He’s going to need reinforcement.

.-

The chimes of the closing bell tolls throughout the library, giving all students a five minute warning before Madam Pince begins to skulk the aisles for any stranglers.

Remus pulls away from his charms text book, vision a bit blurred as he focusses on the red haired shape of a very amused looking Lily Evans from across him. “I’ll still come out on top Lupin,” she barbs with a friendly wink, following his lead to get up and collect their books and quills.

“Our OWLs were only .29% apart for charms Evans, don’t tell me you’re nervous?” he retorts, laughing when she hip checks him as they stroll out.

“Whatever, I can take the heat.”

“Frisky Evans. Shall I tell James?”

Admittedly, the cuff on his head was warranted for that one, so he smiles bashfully and opens the door for her in silent repentance. 

“So are we gonna talk about why you’ve been so keyed up this week?” She asks in a deliberately casual way, so Remus assumes its been on her mind for a while. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Lils.” He replies, affecting a tone of indifference even though it rings hollow to his own ears.

“I’’d expect it to have been about starting NEWT courses but you’re far too smart to worry about it, and you’re aware of the fact.” She tacks on with one finger, soon raising a second to join it. “Then I supposed it had to do with your furry little problem,” she shifts her eyes around the empty corridor just incase and he loves her for it. “But that’s still over a week away. So I’ve reasoned it has to do with your ill-fated romance.”

Remus can’t help the chuckle that spills out. “You like Sirius.”

“I tolerate Sirius, only because his being romantically interested in you warrants me to cancel out his frighteningly intense brotherhood with James.”

“Oh? Not Potter then?”

Lily’s face goes a brilliant scarlet— nearly as bright as her hair. “Oh stuff it Lupin and tell me why you nearly seared Rosier’s nose right off during DADA this afternoon. Which I would’ve loved to see mind you, but you’re usually more smart about your treacherous acts.”

“Learned from you, love.” 

Lily laughs and Remus is suddenly seized with gratitude for their friendship that was able to blossom through all the chaos of their years here in Hogwarts. 

“So,” Lily says as she struts to a bench that lines the corridors and plops down, motioning him to join her. “Tell me what that bastard’s done now.”

“Nothing, he’s distressingly an amazing partner.”

Lily presses her lips together, head cocked, obviously unconvinced. So Remus sighs and explains the bet that’s been going strong for days now, and how he thinks his brain is slowly melting out his head like a soft broil.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Lily tells him, words lit with laughter.

“I know,” Remus says, resigned.

“Positively mad.”

“Agreed.”

“Absolutely—“

He raises his hand to her mouth, big eyes bleeding. “Lils, I know. But I need your help.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, love.” She leers, eyes glittering with mischief. And Remus doesn’t know if he should be thankful or cautious, so decides on both just for good measure.

.-

“This is idiotic.” Remus tells Lily the next afternoon, arms linked as they promenade down to the quidditch pitch for their match against Ravenclaw— the first pick-up match of the year always brings with it an electricity and excitement that he reckons can’t ever be replicated.

“Don’t be daft,” Lily swats his hand away from where he’s begun tugging on his fringe sweeping to the left side of his forehead, suddenly wishing he had just cut off the curls like his Mam had suggested. “You look fantastic. Black will be eating out the palm of your hand by the end of the night or I’ll kiss Potter in front of the whole Great Hall.”

Remus hikes a brow. “Part of me thinks you’re looking for an excuse just to do that anyways.”

“Well all of me thinks that if you ever insinuate something so gauche again I’ll have to shiv you.”

“Charming.”

“I thought so,” she sniffs in a lofty air. “Oh look it’s Dorcas and Marls with Pettigrew towards the front!” She drags him along and Remus has to swallow down hard when he catches sight of the Gryffindor team— More specifically, the sight of Sirius in that damnable kit; shorts showing off his long legs, and a tight enough vest so that his well built, broad shoulders are emphasized to an even greater degree.

And shit.

Remus is well and truly fucked.

.-

He’s never before realized the sensual nature of watching your boyfriend play quidditch, but now that he and Sirius have been celibate for going on a week, Remus is very, very aware. He has to constantly remind himself that they are in the midst of a very important bet every time he gazes a bit too longingly at Sirius’s strong thighs around his broomstick, and the ways his muscles ripple when he swings his bat against a rogue bludger. Even ended up quite literally pinching himself forcibly when Sirius flew by— hair pulled back into a tiny knot on the back of his head— and winking Remus’s direction.

It’s a moment of grace when the game finally ends with Gryffindor beating them, 210 to 60, and he gets to escape to the tower, mercifully away from Sirius and his sweaty form. He’s afraid that if he met him and James in the locker room as usual that he’d simply combust.

.-

Unsurprisingly, the Gryffindor common room has been cleared of all the younger years, and is in the midst of a raucous party, with drinks being doled out liberally and laughter soaked chatter buzzing in every visible corner. Remus’s record player is being employed for the entertainment. Though he does mourn the fact that the next row of tracks have been commandeered by a group of chortling fifth years who have demanded Captain & Tennille, God help them.

The actual team hasn’t returned from the showers yet, so Remus is shuffling— admittedly a bit awkwardly— besides Peter with a few other lads from a year above. He feels faintly ridiculous in the too tight jeans and red V-neck he’s got on to match his Chuck Taylors, hating how Lily always seems to get him into these sorts situations. But right when he was actually contemplating that perhaps this was all just an elaborate ruse just so Lily can get over her hang ups to snog James already, his thoughts are interrupted by a clap to his shoulder, and he turns his head to find the friendly smile of Leon Bennett— a Hufflepuff from their year who Remus had an unsubstantiated thing with late fourth and early fifth year, which basically just amounted to rushed hand jobs after curfew and the occasional make out session. 

“Hullo Leon.”

“Long time no see Rem.” He grins, ever the amiable sort. “Congrats to the Lions, I reckon it probably won’t have that much of an effect on the actual games, but still not a bad way to start out the year, eh?”

Remus felt a don’t jinx us bubbling out, but then abruptly remembered that Leon’s nearly as pure blooded as the Potters, so instead just smiled congenially and asked about his classes while handing him a spare drink. 

He doesn’t know quite how long passes with them just chatting, but does distinctly feel it when a familiar arm swings across his shoulder and tips his glass to clink against Remus’s own, he supposes in that ridiculous, fantastical way that’s only found between the leather bindings of a fairytale, Remus is sure that he’d recognize Sirius without sight or sound. Could recognize him merely by the way it feels when their skin touches and how it causes his insides to contract, for his heart to thud an uneven staccato.

“Cheers Moony!” He says in something that might come across as care-free as ever to anyone who doesn’t know Sirius the way the marauders do. “And who’s this?”

Remus really tries his hardest to tempt down the roll to his eyes, hates how outright rude Sirius can be to people if they don’t pass his initial up to sniff test. “This’s Leon, we’ve been in the same year for six of them now Pads.”

“Ah, right. Well Liam—“

“Leon.”

“Lance—“

“No.”

“’S fine.”

“Larry.” Remus is absolutely fuming now, there’s no reason for him to be such a pretentious prick. “Why don’t you be a mate and jog along, I’ve got to talk to Remus here about some important business, you understand. Just between we lions.”

“Oh, erm— right.” Leon offers Remus one final grin and a promise to catch up soon before walking across to a group mostly made up of his own housemates.

“You’re an arse.” Remus tells Sirius very frankly as he slides out of his embrace, facing him head on with an unimpressed glower and crossed arms. “He’s a good sort.”

“Isn’t he the bloke you—“

“That was a year ago now,” Remus interrupts with flushed cheeks. “Besides ’s not like it ended nastily, just fizzled out, mostly to do with you may I add.”

“Mmm,” is all Sirius deigns appropriate to reply with, moving to flickering his pale eyes up and down Remus’s frame, which makes him feel all types of ridiculous again. “Like your outfit Moony.” He says with words like syrup, and Remus swallows down the lump of emotion suddenly found there, as if their is a hook tugging at his stomach with wanting.

“Lily helped to pick it out for me.”

“Oh, I see.” And with that, he empties his cup with one final swig, and leans down to whisper against his ear— this edge of lecherous— “Game on.”

And Remus feels so very wrong footed all over again.

.-

Over the course of the next week Remus has become convinced that Sirius aught to work on the next round of Geneva Conventions. A prevention advocate for slow torture who can plot out the best defense tactics before anyone else. Or maybe his talents are exclusively for the folks he’s shagging, and if that’s the case, Remus really is a fucking hopeless git.

Sirius has taken to wearing that heather gray sweater beneath his robes that he knows makes Remus’s head swim with attraction. Which is awful enough, but he’s also deemed it totally within the bounds of their bet for him to return to sleeping besides Remus which always means they wake up in a tangle of limbs and blankets and shared breaths. 

Remus is fucked, and not even in the literal sense which might be worst of all. 

But Hope Lupin didn’t raise a quitter God damn it, and Remus will not lose if it’s the last thing he does!

With the skill honed in from years of marauding, Remus plots out a very strategic plan that includes him accidentally dropping something into James and Sirius’s Cauldron while going to the backroom to grab the crushed beetle wings he and Lily need, on the same day that James has extra quidditch practice and Peter has a chess club meeting. Something that makes the potion explode on them, and practically guarantees that Sirius will be taking a shower in their dorm after class. 

This bet is going to end today damn it!

.-

With only a towel wrapped around his torso, Remus slowly steps into the loo, smirking to himself when he spots the hazy image of Sirius behind the curtain. So he opens it up and slides in.

Shoulders stiffening, Sirius pivots around to meet Remus’s ingenuous smile, eyeing him wearily.

“You know Moons, a soaking, naked you is one of my favorite things,” he says lowly, one hand resting on Remus’s side while his eyes narrow. “But I feel like there’s treachery afoot.”

“No treachery Pads,” Remus tells him in as leveled of a voice as he can muster while his sickeningly fit boyfriend is standing their, naked and lathered in soap. “Just wanted a quick rinse and thought we might as well conserve the water.”

Sirius glowers properly now. “And the bet?”

Remus blinks up at him, faux owlish. “Huh? I thought that only had to do with kissing? Not helping the environment.”

“You’re wicked.”

“You’re paranoid,” Remus says airily, taking the proffered shampoo Sirius is wearily offering. 

Slowly, he pumps out a good amount of the liquid before rubbing it in his hair and stretches over to massage Sirius’s scalp too, and he feels like the cat who’s caught the canary when Sirius makes a choked up sound, eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re evil, everyone thinks you’re just some mild mannered swot with a pretty smile, but no. I know you Remus John Lupin and you are fucking evil.”

Remus laughs, inching closer to him as his hands softly move down to his neck and shoulders, breaths hitching when Sirius suddenly opens up his eyes and flips them around so that Remus is pushed up against the wall and Sirius has a better angle to glare down at him.

“Evil,” he repeats emphatically.

“You’re precious,” Remus replies, forcefully keeping his eyes above his waistline.

“This is unfair!”

“This is totally within the rules, we only said no kissing,” Remus points out, indignant now.

“Fine,” Sirius says, pressing their foreheads together, and using one of his hands to squeeze Remus’s side even tighter, while the other circles his—

“Fuck! Pads!” Remus most certainly does not yelp! He’s just surprised, which is why he has to grab onto Sirius’s shoulders for perches while lying completely back on the cold tiles of the shower. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Remus wishes he could muster the amount of hatred warranted for Sirius’s prideful smirk, but all his extremities have gone limp and all the blood in his head has raced down to his cock, his very hard, very throbbing cock that Sirius is currently pumping with help by the shampoo he’s still got all over his palm. 

“You’re the one who said this is only about kissing Moons,” Sirius beams, thumbing at the head to collect some of the pre-come there before returning to his ministrations.

“Stop, stop pinning— Oh! Hah,” Remus has to squeeze his eyes shut while he slams his head back onto the wall, his hips thrusting helplessly to match Sirius’s rhythm. “Stop pinning this on me! You started it!”

“Humph, don’t play coy Moony.”

Remus absolutely despises the thing that almost sounds like a whimper that spills out his lips when Sirius gently moves him so that he’s entirely pressed up against him— hips to hips and chest to back. 

“I’m only following the rules of our bet.”

“But now you’re playing dirty Moony,” Sirius says beneath his breath, wrist speeding up and Remus suddenly feels so cracked up with emotion after so long of them not being intwined in this way. And God, is he thankful to feel the hard length of Sirius pressing against him— was secretly nervous that maybe Sirius wouldn’t be as interested in him as much after being apart and getting a clearer head how they’re not even playing the same league on the attractiveness levels.

“You— Mmm,” Remus thrusts up quickly when Sirius finds it apt to twist just slightly, Sirius’s hot breath skirting against his neck, punctuated only by the slide of his tongue. And suddenly all Remus can feel is the slick skin of Sirius against him and the hot water cascading down their interlocked forms and just everything feels too good. “You make everything dirty.”

Sirius laughs out breathily. “That I do gorgeous.”

And suddenly, Remus feels Sirius’s persistent erection pulling away and his hand letting go and him stepping back completely, leaving Remus still panting and flushed. 

“You fucking prick.” He says once realizing just what Sirius has done.

“I won’t lose love, now excuse me while I go wank one off thinking about all that panting you were doing for me.”

Remus chucks the discarded shampoo bottle at him, and Sirius laughs as he escapes.

“Fuck.”

.-

All right.

So perhaps this bet was amusing at first, funny and a little like foreplay with all the teasing and goading and almost kisses. But it’s nearing on two weeks now, and it feels like there’s something crawling right beneath Remus’s skin, worse than the typical moon induced nerves. Remus just feels like shit, which is made even worse when he walks into the common room after his nightly rounds only to find Sirius sitting on the sofa nearest the fireplace, which has been long ago declared as Marauders property. And that’s fine, that’s normal. If Sirius didn’t wait up for Remus to return, that would be worrisome. But rather than him reading or conversing with James or Peter or maybe a quidditch teammate, Sirius is instead chatting up Emmeline Vance— a very pretty, very blonde, very desirable seventh year who Sirius actually took out to Hogsmeade for a date the prior term before he and Remus had finally popped open the bubble of tension between them and never let go. Remus found out only later that Sirius didn’t ask her for another date because by then he was already so lost on Remus that it didn’t feel fair.

But Emmy is kind though, was one of the rare birds who actually could make Sirius laugh and knew all about his quidditch lingo as a chaser herself. She would’ve made the perfect counterpart to Sirius if he and Remus weren’t a thing.

But now… Maybe Remus let this game go on too far. Maybe Sirius’s realized how boring he is without the sex. Maybe Sirius is looking for a outlet. And maybe Remus has just been an idiot these last few months after all, thinking that he and Sirius can actually keep this thing between them burning strong.

As discretely as possible, Remus just shakes his head at the vision of Sirius’s back to him, and walks up to their dorm, wonders if Sirius even saw him, hoping he did but also not because he suddenly feels a ugly jealousy in his gut and an aching in his bones when the moonlight from the window pours against him— only another two nights until it’s full. So he only breathes in deeply, sheds off his shirt and switches his trousers for a pair of Sirius’s sweats that are a bit too long and too loose around the waste but he doesn’t care, wants to force himself to remember that they’re an item, that Sirius isn’t the sort to be with someone he is bored by, he’s too brash and too honest for that.

And he doesn’t know how long passes with him lying down on his bed, unable to get a lick of sleep— partially because of the moon but mostly because he’s feeling a nest of doubt embedded into his gut now. But soon enough there is a hand carding through his tawny brown curls and his mattress dipping with the force of another body sitting besides him.

“Was wondering where you got to Moons,” Sirius says in a voice just above a whisper, and Remus feels the knot in his chest loosen as he curls into him, always seeking that warmth no matter what.

“Seemed like you were enjoying yourself with Vance, didn’t wanna interrupt,” Remus admits in a murmur, moving so that his head is completely resting on Sirius’s lap now, so he can breathe him in. But he does stagger a bit when he feels Sirius’s hand stilt, and he flutters his eyes open to look up at Sirius’s thunderous face.

“Would’ve rather been with you,” he says, eyes glimmering with conviction and an emotion Remus couldn’t parse out if someone paid him, something like betrayal mixed with love. “Always rather it be you, Remus.”

Remus doesn’t think his voice is exactly strong enough to come out clear, so he just nods, squeezes Sirius’s ankle in apology and hopes that this doesn’t have to be something they speak about— Remus’s idiotic insecurities and general doubts about what he has to offer Sirius as a poor werewolf.

mercifully, Sirius seems to take the olive branch and Remus can feel the tension seeping out of him. “Plonker.”

“You’re stuck with me and my plonker-ness, sorry to say.” Remus tells him, and this time when he looks up, Sirius is gazing at him with a grin that’s positively incandescent, and God the humor paints him in such lovely lights, brightening the blue specs in his storm cloud eyes and making him so effortlessly beautiful.

“Yeah, well budge over, will you?” Remus does, and goes only a bit rigid when he feels Sirius straddling his hips, and the warm oil his Mam always packs an abundance of, dripping across his back, quickly followed by Sirius’s hands kneading against his knotted muscles and rigid spine. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, practically melting at the attention and suddenly so thankful that somehow— miraculously— Sirius might love him just as much after all. “Th—thanks.”

“You always get this mangled before the moon,” Sirius says, voice dropping back to that hushed tone as he presses down on an especially rough clump of muscle, and Remus can’t help the groan that chokes out. 

“Merlin Moony, remind me not to ever buy you a spa trip, poor bugger might pop a stiffy just by hearing you.”

Remus wishes he could scoff, but is too relaxed, so he instead just bucks up, smirking to himself when he feels how true Sirius’s words actually are. 

“Oh, Hah-hah,” Sirius sniffs, needles on a particular point right against Remus’s shoulder. “Can’t blame me for getting all hard after two weeks of this shite.”

“Mmm, it’s no fun.” Remus tells him, not sure why Sirius freezes for a moment, but doesn’t bother to ask.

“Tell me about it Moony,” Sirius says in a long-suffering sigh, getting off of him and lying down on his side so that they’re face to face. “I reckon next time we decide to bet on something it should be like, how many times we can get each other off in a 24 hour period.”

Remus laughs, adjusts his position so that they’re mirroring one another and links his pinky with Sirius’s own between them. “I’m definitely in favor of that one Padfoot.”

Sirius smiles in that particularly soft way that Remus’s only ever seen directed towards him, which makes it so his cheeks redden, burning hot when Sirius dips down to kiss across Remus’s shoulder and up the column of his neck before their lips are so close that all Remus has to do is incline his head just slightly so that they’re mouths are pressed up against one another.

“Together?” Sirius asks.

“Yes, I think so,” Remus answers, and is then very lost for the rest of the night to feed the hunger between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so SO endlessly for reading loves!
> 
> It would mean the galaxy and stars to me if you left a comment letting me know what you thought!
> 
> I post headcanons and other one shots over on my [Tumblr](http://PrefectMoony.tumblr.com)


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